Some things are worth noticing, but aren't worth writing down. They just aren't that important or useful. This is about the other things.

Thursday, December 1, 2016

Rescue

Here is Abby.

My husband found her on a rescue site and fell in love, and because I love my husband, I am to be a dog person again.

Abby is ten months old, sweet and smart, and was
found wandering in Texas, emaciated, with a too-small collar. She'd been spayed. Someone had taken
care of her before she lost them.

Now she's ours.

But for very good reasons, she's especially mine.

We had a dog years ago, when I wasn't yet a "dog person," and did not yet understand that if dogs
seem needy, they also reflect your ability
to give, and more pointedly, receive love.

My capacity to be giving in the
years of raising small children with a husband who traveled was tested to say
the least. But Bonnie lurked around the edges, lying asleep on the kitchen
floor when I cooked, nudging me with her nose when I stared into space,
thinking about one issue or another. As our kids grew and I wondered where my post-parenting
life would take me, Bonnie often came to sit before me quietly, as if she
needed something, or, more likely, as if I did. She had amber eyes that looked right into my soul.

Bonnie
urged her way into my world more every day, until she became a constant ally that I talked to like someone who had known me forever. When she
developed a serious kidney illness in her last year, I sat on her bed with her.
I cooked for her every night, asking her to "Please, just eat this." I would have fed her Twinkies if she'd wanted
them.

By the time she left us, I'd gone from not being a "dog"
person to being, simply, a better person. I connect with kind beings instantly. I love more easily.

I give reflexively.

I like to think that Bonnie has
come back around in spirit. I like to think that Abby, with her own amber eyes is coming to us, but mostly, coming back to me.

She's ours, and we will make her
life wonderful.

But for reasons
I like to think Bonnie would understand, she's mine for all good reasons

I couldn't agree more. I used to think our job was to keep them busy and engaged all the time. This dog will need activity, but oh my God, look at that face. She needs more than that. Thank you, Bubbles.